


Your Fate, But Not Your Fault

by J (j_writes)



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last Tuesday, Ray stopped talking to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Fate, But Not Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> written for Get Fraser Laid, prompt: "For You" by Barenaked Ladies.

Last Tuesday, Ray stopped talking to him.

It wasn't a gradual process. Quite literally, last Tuesday night at six o'clock, Ray stopped talking. Not about the little things, the simple things, the _we're out of milk_ and _here's your hat_ type things, but Ray Talk. The kind of talk that Fraser had gotten used to, and that he found himself missing terribly.

He didn't know why, and he couldn't ask Ray, because Ray wouldn't tell him.

It had actually gotten to the point where Fraser had started trying to make small talk. He'd sit across from Ray in the diner and talk about hockey, or work, or what exactly went into the burger that Ray was feeding Dief under the table, and Ray would just poke at his fries and say _hmmm_.

 _Hmmm_. That was all Ray said anymore, and it was beginning to drive Fraser up the wall.

He had always considered himself to be a pretty even tempered man, and yes, Ray could be trying on occasion, but never to such an extent.

Nothing else had changed. Ray wasn't acting particularly moody, and goodness knew the sex wasn't suffering at all, but something was _missing_ from all of it. There would be moments, just brief seconds when Fraser would be kneeling between Ray's legs in front of the couch, his lips stretched around Ray's cock, and Ray would look down at him and gasp "God, _Fraser_ , you--" and everything would be back to normal. But then, afterwards, when they were both drifting off into lazy sleep in each other's arms, something would change. Fraser could practically feel the moment when Ray shut off again, and each time it happened, it broke his heart just a little more.

So a week from Tuesday, he started packing his things.  
______________

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"Hello, Ray."

Ray was across the room in three steps, ripping the bag out of Fraser's hands and flinging it against the wall. "Seriously, Fraser. What. The. Fuck."

"I'm packing, Ray." He kept his voice even, his face expressionless. If Ray could just shut off at him, then he could do it right back.

"God, you are..." Ray was right up in his face, shaking his head, looking torn between rage and utter disbelief. "I mean, you have to be the fucking _stupidest_ person alive. You just... _this_ is your solution? This is how you deal with shit? You pack up and _leave_? Fuck, I should have known." He had pulled away from Fraser a little, was pacing around the room. "I should have _known_ that this was how you'd deal with it. You don't _talk_ to me like a normal person. Oh no. You start _packing_. Jesus."

Fraser could feel his face growing hot. "So what, this was a _test_?" he demanded, feeling his fingers curling, wanting to shove Ray back into the wall.

"A test? Jesus, Fraser, no! It was...." he shook his head, at a loss for words. "I don't know _what_ it was. It was...you don't talk to me, Fraser. You never talk to me. I mean, sure, you can rattle off every ingredient in the soup I get at that Chinese place, and you can tell Eskimo stories for hours, but you never _talk_. You never _tell_ me anything. About you. So I just...I wanted you to see what it was like, that's all. I thought you'd, you know, _say_ something. Not start _packing_. Christ."

The anger slowly drained from him as Ray talked, leaving nothing but sadness. "I talk to you, Ray," he said quietly, turning to look at the folded clothes lying across the bed. He could feel Ray behind him, warm, solid, not quite touching him. "As much as I've ever talked to anyone. You..." he stopped, trying to think of words that didn't sound like they came from one of the romance novels his grandmother used to keep hidden in the attic. "You know me better than anyone in my life. You have seen sides of me that...that I'm ashamed of, that I didn't know existed. And you've stayed. But...I can't give you everything, Ray. And I apologize if that's not enough for you." The last part came out stiffly, awkwardly, and his eyes found the suitcase on the floor by the closet as he waited for Ray's reply.

There was none.

Instead, he felt Ray's hand on his shoulder, heavy and warm. They stood like that for a moment, Fraser reluctant to move for fear that Ray would realize that no, this wasn't enough for him. But then Ray's hands were slipping around to his chest, and Ray was pressed up against his back, holding him, grounding him. His lips were soft and light on the back of Fraser's neck, and they sent shivers running down his spine. His mouth found an earlobe, lips and teeth tugging gently at it as his tongue drew patterns on the sensitive skin.

Fraser let himself melt back into him, helpless to do anything but clutch Ray's jeans in his fingers, pull him tighter against him. He could feel Ray hardening, rocking into him though layers of cloth, and he turned his head to press their mouths together, running his tongue along Ray's lower lip, across the corners of his mouth. Ray sighed, his fingers dipping into the waistband of Fraser's pants, making the skin there jump at his touch.

"Ray," he whispered, letting his head fall back against Ray's shoulder. "Please." He could feel Ray's breath on his cheek as he breathed shallowly for a moment, fingers frozen on the patch of skin between Fraser's pants and shirt.

"Fraser," he said quietly, and Fraser turned in his arms, pressed himself up against Ray, catching his mouth in a long deep kiss.

" _Please_ ," he said again, right up against Ray's lips, and he felt the moment when Ray's resolve broke. Ray pushed him backwards until they were both tumbling onto the bed, scattering clothes onto the floor, and then their hands were busy removing each other's shirts, pants, exploring every inch of each other as if they hadn't touched in weeks, months. Fraser tasted the sweat that had gathered along Ray's collarbone, and Ray leaned down to run lips and teeth across Fraser's hip, smiling at the tiny sound Fraser let out. Then he was reaching into the drawer beside the bed, and his fingers were sliding into Fraser, slick and warm, slowly, teasing him, not nearly enough.

Fraser braced himself on the bed, arched up into Ray's touch, silently begging him for more, and Ray leaned over him, eyes sharp and intense, watching as Fraser gave himself to him, eyes fluttering closed each time Ray's fingers twisted inside him.

"Now," Fraser whispered finally, his voice breaking into a sob, and Ray smiled, smoothed Fraser's damp hair back from his face with his other hand, and then pushed into him, slow, steady, his breath catching as he held himself there, deep inside Fraser. Fraser had to close his eyes, to save the memory of Ray, leaning over him, in him, clinging to the edge of control, looking so beautiful that it _hurt_. He reached up blindly and touched Ray's face, the stubbled curve of his jaw, and Ray started to move.

He leaned down, buried his face in Fraser's neck, panting. Fraser tangled a hand into Ray's hair, holding him there, pushing his hips up to meet each thrust. He could feel Ray trembling, knew that he was close already, and he reached between them, wrapping his fingers around his own cock, stroking it in the same rhythm. "Fraser," Ray whispered, lifting his head to look at him, eyes a little wild, "I can't...I'm..." and Fraser smoothed the lines from his face, whispering "Shh, it's ok."

Then Ray was driving into him, hard, fast, _taking_ him, and god, it felt so good, too good, and he was coming across his hand, their stomachs, crying out Ray's name tangled up with meaningless sounds. A few more thrusts and Ray was coming too, melting down against Fraser, pressing the breath out of his body.

He rolled off of him eventually, and Fraser made a small sound at the loss of warmth, but then Ray was back, curling up at his side, draping an arm across his chest. "Love you," he whispered, breath cooling Fraser's skin, and Fraser could feel the moment when Ray drifted off to sleep. He considered telling Ray that he loved him too, because he was going to have to start talking more, but he figured that was one of the things Ray already knew, and anyway, speaking right now would take far too much energy.

So instead he lay there in the darkness and ran his fingers through Ray's hair until he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


End file.
